Fragment
by whisperyourscreams
Summary: Oneshot. Happiness after all the sad news. "The laptop is resting atop the desk, the chair empty and cold. He's not with his characters, he's missing out on sleep for another reason and her lips tilt. She knows exactly where to find him."
**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

 **Author's Note: Hey sooo poking my head back into writing fanfic. After recent news, I wanted happy so I wrote some happy. Enjoy.**

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The air is still, the only break in the darkness being a dim sliver of moonlight that has managed to creep in without the curtains noticing. The room provides no soundtrack. No creaking, no whining, or hum to be the cause of the sudden wakefulness that has her eyes flying open. No sound except her own breathing, which is calm.

The symphony starts with the rustle of the blanket, the sheets, and continues with the thump of her hand reaching out to smack at a pillow. _Entirely too quiet._ She's awake because it's just too silent and she groans when nothing but cool fabric scrunches beneath her fingers. The sheets are softer when she isn't alone, but right now they feel scratchy and too clingy. Beckett sits up slowly, struggling to pull herself into an upright position, struggling to glance around in the dark for any sign of movement. After blinking a few times, she reaches for the lamp.

The light does nothing but make her squint in the sudden brightness. After briefly glancing at the time, Beckett groans again and drags a hand down her face. She could fling herself back into the pile of abandoned pillows but she won't sleep. She's awake for the moment, her body protesting the quiet and the cool side of the bed. This has become a nightly thing, waking alone and usually she rolls over and drifts back to sleep but not tonight.

Tonight she's swinging her legs over the side of the bed and letting her toes touch the floor. She's standing before she talks herself out of it, one hand pressing against the ache in her lower back as she sets off in search of a man. She doesn't hear the clack of keystrokes but she checks their office anyway.

The laptop is resting atop the desk, the chair empty and cold. He's not with his characters, he's missing out on sleep for another reason and her lips tilt. She knows exactly where to find him. With a soft shake of her head, she heads into the living room.

The couch is lonely as she passes by, the chairs and kitchen forsaken. She doesn't bother looking around; he's not lurking in the shadows. When her fingers wrap around the railing, Beckett lifts her foot up onto the stair and climbs to the second floor of their loft. Her heart kicks up a notch as she passes the first room and can hear the soft sound of his voice. It races when she sees him. She leans in the doorway, watches as he hums a tune she swears sounds familiar but she can't place it.

He's rearranging the closet. Moving hangers around. Her chest tightens and she waits for him to notice he has an audience. It's been nights of waking alone and now she wonders if this is where he's spent all those hours. His humming continues, some words sneaking out here and there as he pulls a piece of clothing out and strokes his fingers over the fabric. His eyes crinkle when he smiles, his face soft and loving. Her chest feels like it's going to explode and maybe she makes a sound or maybe he can feel her stare but finally he whips around to face her.

"Kate,"

"Hey, whatcha doin'?" Her lips stay tilted, amusement painting her features as he gestures to the closet and then the article of clothing he has in hand.

"I…I was just…"

"Not sleeping."

"I wanted to fix the…" he trails off, points to the closet again and smiles. She can't do anything but beam right back at him. His excitement is infectious and she somehow ends up standing toe to toe with him.

She reaches for the hanger and tugs it from his grasp. He clings just a moment before letting her take it and without admiring the softness for more than two seconds, she slips it right back in place amongst the rest.

"Did you color coordinate?"

"I couldn't sleep and I thought it would be better for you…"

"Castle," she murmurs, reaching for him and settling her palms on either side of his face. She tries to pull him closer and her rounded stomach presses against him, blocking her attempt. She can't quite get as close as she wants but her nose nudges his and her lips tease when she whispers. "I thought I was supposed to be the one nesting."

"I just want it to be perfect." His hands are warm and heavy on her hips, one sliding up to rub the side of her stomach as he steals a kiss. "For both of you."

It takes a few seconds, a few more soft kisses, and then she pulls back to look over the room. The nursery they've created in soft colors. She wishes there was a way to freeze this moment, this three in the morning fragment of time with Castle stroking his fingers through her hair and the dopey smile that she can't seem to wipe off of her face. It doesn't matter that she has a baby pushing uncomfortably against her ribs, it matters that his dad color coordinated his closet of tiny clothes in the middle of the night.

"Already perfect." Maybe she'd thrown a fit or two over the rocking chair and where it looked best but in this moment, the room is perfect and she just wants to take her writer back to bed.

"I was about to move on to the dresser…"

"No, come back to bed." If he has a protest, it falls silent to the press of her mouth against his. She knows how to shut him up, she knows as soon as his hand strokes up her side and comes to rest just beneath her breast she's winning this round. "The sock drawer can wait. We both need some sleep before this little guy decides to join us."

There's a beat of silence, his brow furrows and Beckett thinks he might actually say no but then he's nodding, agreeing.

"The sock drawer can wait till morning."


End file.
